


Fire

by Lurlur



Series: Ineffable Advent Event [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Crowley Has Issues (Good Omens), F/M, Female Crowley, Fire, Ineffable Advent, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: Day 5 of 31 Days of Ineffables "Fire"Aziraphale has an idea for a cuddly day in, but he doesn't think far enough ahead.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Advent Event [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558564
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96





	Fire

It’s not a decision that he’s conscious of making but, as Crowley comes back down the stairs, Aziraphale knows that he’s not going to be opening the bookshop today. She looks simply stunning, wrapped in chunky black knitwear and still a little sleep-mussed, Aziraphale’s heart does somersaults at the sight of her. Opening his arms to embrace her, Aziraphale waits at the bottom of the staircase. Crowley steps into the welcome of his arms and plants a firm kiss on his cheek. When she pulls back, she looks pleased with herself.

“You look very cosy, dearest. Are you feeling the chill? Can I fetch you anything?”

Crowley shakes her head and then pauses.

“I was a bit cold but you’re warming me up.”

Aziraphale smiles and squeezes her a little tighter. He’s indulging himself in as much physical contact as he can now that the rules of their relationship are evolving. You can’t have too much of a good thing, Aziraphale thinks, breathing the delightful scent of Crowley’s perfume.

A thought occurs to him, something that might be a pleasant distraction for a few hours.

“Would you be a dear and bring down the blankets and pillows from the wardrobe upstairs? I’ve got an idea.”

Crowley grumbles about being sent straight back upstairs, but she goes to retrieve the items that Aziraphale has placed inconveniently far away. As soon as Crowley is out of sight, Aziraphale sets about building a fire in the grate of the old fireplace. It’s been a while since it saw any use, but the image of cuddling in front of a nice fire has Aziraphale determined.

Flames are just beginning to spread from the kindling to the firewood when Aziraphale hears Crowley’s footsteps coming back down the stairs. He turns to see the look on her face, to see if he’s surprised her.

Crowley is deathly pale, her mouth open in mute horror and her eyes are fully yellow and glassy. Her arms drop, letting the blankets fall to the floor in a pile.

“Put it out.” Her voice is small, strained.

“What? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale is desperately confused, torn between going to Crowley and finding what’s causing her distress.

“Put it out, angel. Please, please, put it out. Put it out! PUT IT OUT!” Crowley becomes frantic, her voice pitching higher with each repetition.

Aziraphale’s instinct works faster than his rational mind and the fire has been extinguished before he realises that he’s performed the miracle. Crowley falls to her knees as if she were a marionette whose strings have been cut and Aziraphale is at her side in a heartbeat.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale stops just short of touching her, unsure of how welcome his presence is.

Crowley is shaking, sobbing, hyperventilating. She flings her arms around Aziraphale’s neck and buries her face in his chest. Gathering her in his arms, he shifts her into his lap, settling them both on the floor. He strokes her hair and makes soothing sounds whilst feeling helpless in the face of her great distress. After a while, Crowley’s breathing calms and the sobs become the occasional little hiccough.

“Didn’t like the fire, angel.” She mumbles into Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

“I know, dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through.” Aziraphale mentally kicks himself for his stupidity.

“Every time I walk through the front door, I think about that day,” she’s still not looking at him but this is a level of vulnerability that she rarely expresses so Aziraphale isn’t going to push her. “I hate feeling like this, it’s pathetic.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s perfectly understandable. You thought that I had been destroyed. It was the end of the world and you were alone. Those emotions have left strong memories.” Aziraphale kisses the top of her head and takes a deep breath of her hair.

There’s still the smell of smoke in the air, he realises irritably. A flick of one hand banishes it far away from the shop and immediately Crowley is breathing normally again.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

She stiffens in his arms, freezing for a moment before moving to look him in the eyes.

“Love?”

Aziraphale winces at being caught off-guard by his own tongue but then he sees a flicker of hope in Crowley’s gaze and he steels himself.

“Yes. Love.”

The admission is partial, safer, but Crowley smiles nonetheless.

“What a terrible angel, loving a demon.”

Aziraphale sniffs and raises his chin a fraction.

“I think I’m a very good angel, actually. I must be if I have enough love to spare so much for you.”

Blushing, Crowley gives Aziraphale a playful punch in the ribs.

“You’re a liability.”

Aziraphale can’t disagree with that, not really. But he does manage to get them moved into a snug blanket nest between the armchairs where he spends the day reading Victorian ghost stories to Crowley and kissing her until her lipstick is a faint smear around her mouth.


End file.
